Periodic functions
by BadGateway
Summary: Sequel to I got you. Harry is a PhD student who suffers from Multiple sclerosis. He is back home and his life is about to be turned upside down.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, for fuck's sake… come on, take it!" Harry balanced on his left crutch, trying to flatten a crumpled-up note with his right hand against the glass front of the vending machine before inserting it again in the slot designed for bank notes. Only to watch the machine spit his note out again.

"Balance: 0." The small screen blinking in front of him seemed to mock him. Harry saw his hot chocolate recede into the distance. Damn it, he could have really used it. It was freezing cold outside and Harry would have made a bet that it had started to snow, again. Great, perfect.

"Keep it for yourself then, bitch," he swore, tucking the bill back into his pocket.

"Can I help you?" a voice to his left asked.

Harry picked up his second crutch which he had placed against the vending machine's front and turned.

"Well, if you have change for-". Harry stopped short midsentence as he perceived the man standing in front of him.

The mouth of the redhead dropped open as he recognized Harry as well. A slight blush flushed his face and he fiddled with the strap of his bag.

"Uh… er…" the other man stammered.

"Hullo," Harry said, frowning, "what are _you_ doing here?"

"I… I… am here to see Professor… Helm?"

Harry nodded, raising his eyebrows.

"I… had an appointment fifteen minutes ago but I couldn't find his office and…" The redhead seemed seriously lost.

Harry sighed. "Follow me, I'll show you to his office."

The other man, Ron, it came to Harry suddenly as he looked into the freckled face, froze.

"Uh… you could just explain the way to me and-," he stuttered before Harry cut him off.

"Would you rather search for the office for the rest of the night? I assure you, you won't find another living soul to ask for help inside these walls except for you and me at this time. And by living soul I mean it. The department of medicine is somewhere in this direction. I bet you don't want to stumble into the anatomy hall by accident, right?"

The frightened look on the other's face nearly made Harry laugh. He turned and started down the corridor without taking care if Ron followed.

A few turns and more deserted corridors later they arrived at a glass door. Harry pushed the switch that opened the automatic doors with his elbow. He slowly climbed the few steps that led to the annex of the building behind the door while Ron waited, trying very hard not to stare. Finally he had dragged his left foot on top of the last step.

"It's at the end of this corridor," Harry told Ron and led the way. "Through here."

They walked past several closed doors until the corridor widened and passed two unoccupied desks. Harry stopped in front of the door at the very end of the corridor and banged one crutch against it.

"POTTER!" A voice bellowed from behind the door, making Ron jump. "Didn't I tell you to go to bed? Does anybody follow my orders?! Hell, this really is a circus!"

"Ray? There's someone here to see you," Harry yelled back from in front of the closed door.

"If it's a student tell him to stop pestering me at this hour and to get himself a life. Actually, he could take you along, while he is on it. You could use one yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"It's Ron…" Harry raised one eyebrow and turned to Ron who looked at him aghast.

"Weasley," he whispered.

"Weasley!" Harry yelled.

A second later they stumbled back as the door was pulled open abruptly. A rather short man with thinning grey hair stormed out, arms wide and a broad grin on his face.

"Finally! Thought your plane had taken the wrong direction!" Professor Ray Helm crushed Ron's right hand between both of his and seemed determined to shake it until it fell off.

"Uh… the plane was late, actually, I apologize-" Ron mumbled, catching Harry's eye who tried to suppress a grin.

Professor Helm pulled an only feebly resisting Ron inside his office. "We have so much to discuss! I have all night! I am _so_ excited." Ron managed to throw Harry a last flabbergasted look before the professor closed the door, giving Harry a wink when he did.


	2. Chapter 2

"How is my hero?" Ray jumped into Harry's office without warning.

Harry looked up from the screen and put down his headphones. "Good morning, Ray."

"A beautiful morning to you, too, Harry!" The professor took the sandwich from the plate next to Harry's computer and sniffed it. "Chocolate cream?" He made a face.

"What's wrong with chocolate cream?" Harry grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled the office chair he was sitting on closer to Ray, snatching the sandwich from his hands. "It's delicious."

"Hm…" the professor shook his head unconvinced. Then he seemed to remember something. "Harry, I wanted to introduce you to someone. Or rather, you need no introduction, as you have already met each other, it seems to me. One minute?" With that he vanished.

Harry shrugged and returned his attention to the screen. Who was his professor talking about?

A few minutes later Ray returned, the redhead in his wake. "Harry, Ron, I think you already know each other. Well, what a perfect beginning for collaboration."

Harry stared at Ray and then at Ron without understanding. Ron's eyes widened. "Ray… what…"

"Ron, I told you about the talented kid working on a similar project as you? Here he is. Harry, Ron is visiting us from Princeton University and he is going to share your office for the time being. I'm sure you are getting along with each other quite splendidly. I'm so thrilled. Let me know if you need anything. Ron, Harry, see you later." He tried to salute and left the room, giggling.

Ron stood at the door, obviously unsure what to do. "Uh… Ray is… uh"

"Crazy?" Harry supplied dryly.

"I wanted to say brilliant but yes… crazy fits, too."

"You are from Princeton?" Harry asked, still not believing what he had heard.

Ron nodded, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Rich parents, I guess."

Ron swallowed and blushed. "Actually-" But Harry had already put on his headphones again and turned towards his computer.

Ron remained standing at the door, staring at Harry for a few minutes before he left abruptly. He did not come back until after the coffee break. Then he stormed into the room without looking at Harry, occupied the free desk across from him and hid behind his laptop.

'I can live with that pretty well,' Harry realized. He knew they were supposed to work together but somehow he could not bring himself to even like this pampered prince a tiny bit. He knew that as the time passed he would have to pull himself together if he did not want to jeopardize his own work. Not to speak about the prospect of going to Princeton next year. His stomach made a flip as he thought of it. Princeton meant US East Coast and that meant Draco. Harry stopped in his work and looked out of the window but his eyes did not see the grey multi-story building that occupied most of the view outside. Draco and Harry regularly communicated via mail or Skype. Harry had confined in him the probability of a meeting sometime sooner or later next year, not without emphasizing that everything was rather vague and unsure. But somehow that had not bothered Draco.

The days went by sluggishly. Harry and Ron continued working in the same room while ignoring each other for the rest of the week. Harry had to admit that Ron connected very fast with all the other people at the institute. He also got along perfectly well with Ray, as Harry could tell from the booming laughter he heard out of Ray's office as often as Ron had an appointment with him. At Friday afternoon Harry grimaced into his coke as the others sipped one glass of alcohol after the other and Ron got into a deep and entertaining discussion about soccer that only Harry could somehow not find funny. He caught Thomas's eye and tried to fake a smile at him. He left early for the metro, the snow that had started to fall a perfect excuse for not staying longer.

Harry had not told Draco that he worked with Ron now. Somehow he sensed it would be better not to. During the weekend he caught himself dreading the arrival of Monday and wished Ron would leave soon. When he skyped with Draco one evening and the blond tried to pry information out of him about his possible visit he realized that he still wanted to see Draco but the whole excitement about Princeton had vanished. He resented Ron for that, too.

As if it could not get any worse his computer seemed to have decided to turn against him on Monday. "Oh, come on, what is wrong with you? Speak to me, you freaking hell of a machine!"

"What happened?" Ron threw his bag on the table opposite to Harry, clutching a steaming coffee mug in one hand.

"Internal compiler error," Harry growled, hacking into the keyboard.

Ron came around and stood behind him. "What compiler do you use?"

"GCC. And yes, I tried already Oracle and C++ Builder. Same result."

"What about clang?"

Harry looked up from the screen. "Hm… heard about it but never used it…"

Ron laughed out loud unbelieving. "How did you do any programming without it?"

Harry sighed.

Ron patted his shoulder. "Make room, I'll get that. No, no, you don't need to-"

But Harry had already used the edge of the table to heave himself out of the office chair. He turned, leaning against the desk and gestured towards his legs. "You have… ten minutes."

Ron mumbled something incomprehensible but settled down in front of Harry's computer, throwing a strange look towards Harry before starting. Harry watched his fingers fly over the keyboard for a few minutes, then-

"Found it! I just modify this line... Now, try it!"

Harry sank back into the chair and recompiled the program.

"Well?" Ron was still standing next to him.

"It's working… thanks."

Ron smiled to himself as he sat down at his desk, sipping his coffee.

'Don't you think we are best friends forever, now,' Harry thought to himself darkly. He had to admit however grudgingly that Ron might be an idiot but he definitely knew what he was doing.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry called in sick the next morning. Having MS also meant that calling in sick was never a process of a few minutes but rather a long conversation with the secretary followed by Ray at the telephone who were worried about him possibly having another attack. Harry explained patiently that a running nose was only very seldom connected to his disease, although he could not say the same of the other symptoms like fatigue and aching joints. He promised to call as soon as his condition worsened and went back to bed and to a fuming cup of tea.

Although Harry felt a little better the next days he decided to work from home. His job as a programmer only seldom required his personal appearance at the institute and he was mostly freed from teaching or other duties. Still, he preferred to work at the institute over being alone in his apartment. Around midday the third day home his professor called again, concerned about his well-being as well as looking for someone to fix the layout of his slides. In the afternoon of the same day the doorbell rang. When Harry opened he was surprised to find Ron standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Harry had to admit he could have greeted his new colleague more welcoming.

"I… I…" Ron looked as caught by surprise as Harry and tried very hard not to stare at Harry's wheelchair. "Didn't Ray tell you? He sent me over to bring you this." Ron produced a blue folder from his bag.

Harry took the folder, frowning. He did not need the printouts to care for Ray's software problem and Ray knew that. It probably was one of Ray's famous team-building schemes, sending Ron over to Harry. Harry sighed. He could not possibly turn Ron away now that he was here. He placed the useless folder in his lap and reluctantly turned the wheels, backing the chair.

"Come inside; it's freezing cold out there."

Ron stomped snow from his light shoes and stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.

Harry turned the chair and crossed the living room where he had installed his small home office and wheeled into the kitchen.

"Nice apartment. It really is big!" Ron called from the spacious living room and peaked around the corner into the kitchen.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "It's wheelchair accessible."

Ron gulped and reddened. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I… can I help you?"

"Yes." Harry pointed to the additional plate and cutlery he had collected from one of the numerous low cupboards in the kitchen. There were some higher shelves in the kitchen too, Harry assumed because even in an accessible household a kitchen looked naked without. He had left them mostly empty however. "You can place them on the table over there." He opened the oven door and smiled as a delicious wave of heat hit him. The lasagna looked quite ready.

"Are… are you inviting me for dinner?" Ron was rooted to the spot, plate and cutlery in his hands.

"Yes." Harry resisted rolling his eyes. "Unless you are not hungry?" He fetched the lasagna from the oven with gloves on his hands and put it on a wooden plate by the stove. He had just been ready to eat when Ron had rung the bell. Because Harry did not really appreciate the food at the canteen he regularly cooked at home larger portions than necessary for one person and took the leftovers to work the next day or put them in the freezer for later times.

Ron's eyes got big as he saw the steaming lasagna and Harry grinned when he wheeled past him, balancing plate and lasagna on his lap.

Dinner together with Ron turned out to be rather pleasant. Ron praised Harry's cooking skills and tucked in as if he had been starved for days. After some time he got more relaxed and talkative. Harry learned about his large family and his older brothers who had all moved out of the parents' house and spread over the whole world. He himself, he told Harry, still lived with his parents in his hometown near Princeton. Harry imagined their house as a small palace and found the decision to stay there not unreasonable.

"Bill was working in Egypt. He moved to India a few months ago. Would be great to visit him once."

"Oh yes, what I heard from Draco, India must be really cool."

Ron froze as Harry said that and Harry cursed himself. He had avoided that topic on purpose until now.

"How well do you know Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged, carefully lining up his fork and knife on his empty plate.

"I only met him this summer. We just spent a few days together."

Ron lowered his loaded fork.

"I thought that. Are you still in contact?"

"We plan to meet when I go to Princeton."

"I'm just saying… you should be careful."

Harry groaned, annoyed. What was Ron up to?

"What do you mean? Should I be afraid?" He chuckled but Ron looked serious.

"He is… evil."

At that point Harry laughed out loud. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me. That sounds like a bad movie. Draco is… nice… intelligent, empathetic…" Harry felt his cheeks heat up when he said that. He had not talked about Draco to anyone, avoiding the topic with his friends. "He is far from evil. Sorry, that's just ridiculous."

Ron only shrugged. "I have known him for longer than you. I'm just saying… you should be careful."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind, thanks," he said coldly.

Dinner ended mostly in uncomfortable silence and Ron took off shortly afterwards. Harry lingered behind in the dark hallway after the door had closed, thinking about what Ron had said. He could not help getting curious at last but a voice deep inside him asked if he really wanted to know the truth behind Ron's ominous warning.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah, coffee!" Professor Helm was late for the coffee break as always. He took a cup and placed it under the machine. "Hey, Ron, did you decide about St. George?"

Harry, who had been in a conversation with Martin, looked up, frowning. The annual retreat to St. George guesthouse was scheduled for next week. Usually only institute members attended but Ron must have been invited by Ray, too.

"Yeah, I'm so grateful I am allowed to go with you all. It will be so much fun," Ron answered as Harry had expected.

"Great, I'm excited! Ron, since you don't have a car and public transportation is not to be recommended, why don't you get a lift from Harry? He is the one living closest to campus and I think he will be delighted to drive you. Am I right?" The professor beamed at Harry, innocently.

Harry ground his teeth. Ray had waited for the perfect situation; everyone was looking at Harry expectantly. "Of course," he said, not meeting Ron's eyes.

The next Monday he picked up Ron, who was staying in one of the guesthouses on campus, early at the bus station in front of the institute. It had stopped snowing only the day before and although the streets were free everything else was packed in a white thick layer.

Harry lowered the window. "Get your luggage in the trunk." He noticed Ron's bag was small even for a three days trip.

A moment later, Ron slid on the passenger's seat and his mouth dropped open. "Wow, cool car!" He examined the interior of the Mercedes with amazement, running a hand over the cream colored leather.

Harry was unsure if he should interpret Ron's reaction as a compliment to his car or as astonishment to the fact that Harry owned a car like that. After all, Ron must be used to luxury such as that. He chose to say nothing and instead accelerated and pulled into traffic. Ron gave the hand controls a quick look but did not comment on them. Harry put in his favorite music, a subtle hint he did not intend to make conversation and concentrated on traffic.

Half an hour later, Ron had fallen asleep. His head had fallen to one side and his mouth was slightly agape. He looked even peaceful. Harry grinned a little at that.

Two hours later he pulled into a small parking lot surrounded by four farm houses. He had left the highway nearly one hour ago and the streets had increasingly become narrower and whiter since then, the height of the snow walls at the sides mounting. They had passed the last village half an hour ago. The trees surrounding the houses where white instead of dark green as he remembered it and the swings on the playground were hardly recognizable. The houses were suffocating under snow as well and the walkways had not been cleared during the last days it seemed. Harry sighed. Definitely not his favorite conditions for walking.

Ron woke as soon as he turned off the motor.

"Whatshappning?"

"We've arrived. Welcome at St. George guesthouse. Let's hope they started kindling a fire in the oven already…" Harry turned and grabbed his warm jacket from the back seats, wriggling into it. He searched in the back once more, getting his crutches and a cardboard box.

"Can you take my bag, too?" Harry asked Ron who had also put on his jacket. He hated to ask him for help but he saw no other option. He frowned at the sight of Ron's clothes that did not seem appropriate for those weather conditions. Honestly, what was that guy thinking? Harry rummaged through the box until he found the smaller snowshoes, attaching them to the tip of the crutches. Then he opened the car door and the warmth of the interior seeped out at once. He turned and placed the crutches into the snow. They sank only a little through the soft surface. Ron unloaded their bags while Harry exited the car, testing the grip of his boots before taking a few stiff steps to the side and closing the door with an elbow.

"What about the wheelchair?" Ron called from behind the car.

Harry hesitated. "Leave it in the trunk." It was not of much use in the snow and Ron could not carry both their bags and the wheelchair through the snow anyway.

"Which one is our house?" Ron had one bag in each hand and seemed to shiver underneath his clothes.

"The yellow one over there," Harry nodded towards a long half-timbered house to their right. In the ankle deep snow he walked even slower than usually, neither fully trusting his crutches nor his boots. Ron hurried away, obviously wanting to get inside as fast as possible. The few steps to the entrance of the guesthouse were sheltered by the low overhanging roof and mainly free of snow. The longer ramp was not, so Harry climbed the slippery steps carefully. At least, Ron had had the decency to wait and keep the door open for him.

Harry ordered Ron to take his bag to the only room on the ground floor. They did not have to wait long until the others arrived, stomping snow off their shoes, blowing into their frozen hands. Ray waved Harry, who had removed the snowshoes from the crutches and dried them with an old towel, to his side.

"Ah Harry, how was the drive?"

"No problems, Ray. How was yours?"

"Took the wrong departure but… ah, I wanted to talk to you about something else. The guesthouse seems quite crowded and, well, we did not plan for another person to come so… We need to accommodate Ron in your room since it is the only free bed left."

Harry sighed and glowered at Ray. "You knew that before, right?"

"Oh, no, no, Harry. I'm really sorry about that." Ray's face crumbled up in sorrow. "If it is a problem Ron can sleep in my room and I take the sofa."

Harry resisted against rolling his eyes. "Yeah, there's no need for that. Tell him he can stay in my room."

Ray smiled happily and hurried away. Harry stared out of the window across an empty white field framed by the forest. 'You manipulative bastard,' he muttered under his breath while behind him people were carrying their bags up the stairs to the other rooms.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Harry was woken by cramps. It was still dark outside and the room was freezing cold. He cursed the heating system of the old house and reluctantly freed himself from the covers that at least provided some warmth. When his naked toes touched the cold floor he wished he had asked someone to get his wheelchair yesterday. His joints were stiff and his legs were aching due to the temperature. Walking seemed not very appealing. However, Harry knew the best way to cope with spasticity was a warm shower and sitting at the edge of the bed, shivering, would not make his condition any better. He collected his crutches from under the bed, placed them on the floor with the familiar small clinking sound and heaved himself up with a groan.

The bump under the covers of the bed next to Harry's moved when Ron rolled from one side to the other, murmuring something half-asleep before starting to snore again. Harry chuckled as he thought about the night before. After three hours of a particularly heated board game that had been accompanied by the elimination of tremendous amounts of alcohol, Martin and Ron had separately claimed themselves as winners, leading to an even more heated discussion which resulted somehow in the mysterious destruction of the offending last card during the fight over it and everyone else agreeing that it was time to go to bed. Shortly after that Ron had made the discovery that a high alcohol level can come into conflict with gravity and that a room-mate on crutches is not the most stable support. Harry was still not sure how he had in the end managed to get Ron into his bed, who had barely been able to stand upright, least walk straight, but had still been babbling about his victory even as Harry removed his shoes and threw the blankets over him.

Harry sat on the shower bench for some time, letting moderately warm water splash over his body, feeling his muscles loosening up a little. He dreaded the minute he had to get out in the cold again and stretched the time until he started to feel guilty for using up most of the hot water. He changed and left for breakfast without waking Ron who seemed completely knocked out. Thomas and even Martin, surprisingly enough considering his participation in clearing all alcohol resources during the first night, were already up when Harry entered the common room. Thomas shot to his feet even before Harry had sat down at their table to load a plate for Harry at the buffet. Harry thanked him with a smile and washed down his meds with green tea.

The day went by with a high density of talks given by the people from the department about their individual research projects. Harry managed it through the day somehow, developing a serious headache towards the evening and grumpily observed that Ron, although he had not appeared at breakfast but somehow made it to the first talk in time, seemed fresh and in good mood after the last night. Harry gave his talk sitting down as always and retreated to their room early. He had already dozed off when Ron went to bed, earlier this time than the night before. The house was already silent. Lack of alcohol and the exhaustion during the day seemed to have called people to bed.

After a good night of sleep Harry felt actually better. That was not always guaranteed. He could sleep for ten hours and sometimes still feel tired upon waking up. He, Ron and Martin and a few others stayed longer after lunch to clean up the guesthouse's kitchen before they left. For the ride back, Harry took Ron and also Martin in his car, because on his way to university he could drop off Martin at his home. It was already late and it had started to snow, again. Harry was not worried, though. The four-wheel drive of the Mercedes would bring them through nearly every weather condition and the engine purred reassuringly as Harry drove down the winding roads through the dim forest. Martin and Ron in the back had picked up the argument from two nights ago.

"I don't deny I kept holding on to the card, but you were the one actually pulling. That means it's your fault."

"Well, in the first place, it's your fault as much as mine. Moreover, it was not even your card, it was mine. So it actually is your fault, in the end."

"Oh come on, that's just not true. Harry, please, what do you think? Who's fault is it?"

Harry chuckled. "I think you are both idiots." He watched the two laughing in the rear mirror before looking back on the street.

Not a second too early. The Mercedes' head lights illuminated a tree lying on the road and Harry pushed the breaks on the hand control with full force. The car broke away at once, wheels sliding on the snow despite the anti-lock braking system and Harry hurriedly turned the steering wheel to keep the car on the street. Ron and Martin screamed in the back and the headlights illuminated the rows of trees to the sides and then the advancing trunk of the tree again, not yet completely snowed over, branches sticking out to meet them. Without thinking, Harry slammed the steering wheel to the left. The car skidded but finally turned and shot towards the looming wall of trees. Harry was thrown around in his seat as they left the road, the seat belt cutting into his chest. He had lost all control of where they were going when the car came to an abrupt halt with an awful screeching sound and it got dark around them.

"Fuck! What happened?"

That had been Ron.

"Is everyone Okay? Harry?"

That was Martin.

"I'm fine." Harry's hands were still gripping the steering wheel tight, his heart racing. Slowly he opened his trembling fingers. For once he was sure that was not to be blamed to his disease.

"Wow. Fuck! That was close." Ron opened the door. A gust of icy wind and snow flakes blew into the car.

Harry turned to his left and realized just how close it had been. Directly in front of his eyes, to the left of the car was the massive trunk of a tree. A tree that was still standing. Like the ones to their right and only centimeters directly in front of them. Miraculously the car had not hit any tree head-on but just grazed one before coming to a halt.

"The car is up to its headlights in snow," Ron reported from the outside. Also Martin exited the car.

"But it looks fine to me. Apart from some scratches, of course."

Harry did not care. He was still marveling about how they had survived.

Someone knocked at his window, making Harry jump. Martin.

"Can you back the car, Harry? Ron and I will push. Maybe we can make it out of here on our own."

Harry nodded absentmindedly and started the engine. The motor sprang to live at once. He went into reverse and carefully accelerated. Ron and Martin threw themselves at the car to make it move out of the snow but it did not budge. They tried it several times until all that happened were the wheels spinning in the slippery snow, covering Ron and Martin with the soggy mass all over.

"We are stuck!" Martin yelled, stating the obvious. They both climbed back into the car, especially Ron shivering all over from the cold.

"We need to call for help," Ron said, his teeth clattering.

"No reception, I already tried," Martin replied.

Harry tried his mobile phone, too, but Martin was right. Nothing. They were stuck in meter high snow next to a road to nowhere without reception and it would be getting completely dark soon.

"Okay, I have a plan."

Of course, Martin had a plan. Harry nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"The last village we passed is not far from here. I'll walk back there and get us help. It will take half an hour, maybe an hour. In less than two hours we are out of here. How does that sound?"

"Good."

Ron nodded, blowing into his hands.

Martin opened the door again. "Good, see you soon, guys. Keep warm." With that he jumped out of the car and fought his way through the snow up to the street. Soon he was gone.

One hour went by. Another. The dark forest was now black around them and nothing could be heard except for their breathing. Snow was falling silently and continuously. Now and then Harry started the car to heat it up a little more.

"I think there is something wrong." Ron expressed what Harry had been thinking for half an hour. "I… think we should go after him. I mean… I'll go after him."

Harry nodded. "At least take my jacket so you won't freeze to death in yours," he said and shrugged out of his warm one, handing it to Ron. Ron accepted it and gave Harry his own.

"Er… Okay, see you." Ron looked slightly afraid as he exited the car. Harry watched him walk away; trying not to think what would happen if he, too, did not return.


	6. Chapter 6

What felt like forever but, as Harry confirmed with a glance on his mobile phone, was indeed only another hour later, Harry heard a car approaching and only seconds later the scenery was bathed in the bright headlights of a car and a tractor. Two broad shouldered guys plowed through the snow and greeted him with a short nod, Ron hurrying after them. Wordlessly they attached a rope to the back of the Mercedes and the tractor pulled Harry's car with Harry on the driver's seat out of the snow without problems.

"Where's Martin?" Harry had pulled down the window as soon as the car was on the road again, their two saviors detaching the rope.

Ron opened the door and jumped on the front seat. "I don't know! No one has seen him."

"We have to search for him!" Harry yelled to the two who were already preparing to leave.

"It's dark and it's going to snow a whole lot more," one of the guys growled, mounting the tractor. "It's no use to go for a search in such conditions." The howling wind nearly cut off what he was saying.

"Your friend probably just came upon a bar and got stuck there," the other yelled, grinning and entered the other car.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "He would not do that. Please, we have to find him!"

But the tractor's engine started with a roar and the other guy just shrugged apologetic and closed the door of his car. Minutes later Harry and Ron were alone on the road once more.

"What do we do?" Harry was devastated.

"You really think he did not come upon a bar and-"

"No way!"

"Let's… let's drive to the village and look for him again, okay? Maybe… I don't know, maybe he got lost."

Harry considered the suggestion and found it was as good as any. He was sure Martin had never reached the village, though, and he also knew that he was most certainly not lost but he had no idea what else to do. At least the village was a start.

They drove down the small road in silence for some time. The headlights illuminated the dancing snowflakes in front of them. The guys from the village had been right. The snow seemed to get thicker every minute.

Suddenly Ron turned and yelled: "Stop!"

Harry, already on the edge of his nerves, pushed the brakes at once, causing the Mercedes to slip for a few frightening seconds on the snow again before it stopped in the middle of the road.

"There is a side road." Ron peeked out of the window to his right, his forehead touching the glass. "And a small sign. It says… Cake farm… or something."

"Cake farm? Are you serious?"

"Some farm! Maybe Thomas went down this way. I… I did not see this sign before. I was walking on the other side of the road."

Harry reversed the car and turned into the even narrower side road, leading deeper into the forest. The farther they got, the slower they had to go because of the snow deepening more and more. Finally the road ended and they could make out a building on a small clearing ahead of them. Everything was dark.

"That's the farm house."

"It looks deserted."

"I… don't think Martin went there."

"What if he did? We should make sure he is not here."

Ron shook his head. "I don't like this."

"I'm going. Give me my jacket." Harry grabbed his crutches from behind his seat and changed the attached snow shoes. The large ones would be right for this amount of snow.

When he turned to open the car door, Ron put his hand on Harry's arm.

"Don't… don't go alone. I'm coming with you." His face was white, his freckles standing out.

Harry nodded, opened the car door and exited. Ron had already rounded the car to his side when he was ready, crutches sinking into the deep snow despite the snow shoes. Harry had left the engine running and the headlights illuminated their slow walk to the house. Ron kept close to Harry's side, flinching at every sound coming from the forest.

"There is no one living here," Ron whispered, his teeth clattering.

Harry's gaze fell on the broken windows, the paint peeling off the walls, the sunken in roof.

"Yeah, there has no one been living here for a long time." Still he moved towards the steps leading up the porch. He turned when he did not hear Ron following.

"What? We should have a look inside."

"I… I don't know." Ron's voice quivered. He was standing some steps away from the house, staring at the looming form.

Harry shrugged and started to climb the steps. His foot slipped on the second one and when he tried to lean into the handrail for stability, it gave way with a tired crack. Ron was at his side and grabbed him before he could fall.

"Shit, this house is falling to pieces." Harry organized his feet and crutches again. "Thanks, by the way."

Ron followed him silently up the steps, clutching his arm tightly. "This is dangerous," he whispered when they were in front of the large wooden entrance.

Harry did not reply and pushed with one crutch against the door. It swung slightly open with a loud creaking noise. Harry moved closer, pushing the door open wider. They could see only darkness inside the house. Ron at his side breathed quickly and Harry felt his own heart racing in his chest, the blood pumping in his ears.

"Martin! Are you here?!"

Ron jumped. "Are you crazy?" he hissed into Harry's ear.

"Shh! Silent…"

They stood unmoving on the threshold, holding onto each other, listening. The only thing Harry could hear were their breathing, forming white steam in the air, and the faint humming of the car engine in the back but then-

"Did you hear that?" Ron's voice was barely more than a squeak. "There is something in there. Harry, I really don't like this. What if this is… I don't know… a trap?"

"You've definitely watched too many horror movies" Harry said, but he was whispering now, too.

"Harry, please, let's go back and get someone. Maybe… we should call the police."

"Sh… I heard it again."

He strained his ears until he heard what was unmistakable someone shouting.

"It's Martin! Martin, are you in there?"

There was silence for some seconds and then a faint voice, sounding far away: "Harry? Ron?" Harry felt relief wash over him.

"Martin?!" That was Ron now. The two moved more inside the house, trying to accustom their eyes to the darkness.

"Don't come inside. This house is falling apart. I… I think I broke through the floor."

Harry nodded to Ron. "Could you get my mobile phone out of the right pocket in my jacket? We need a flashlight."

"Good idea." Ron let go of Harry's arm he had still been holding tight and Harry shifted his weight to give Ron access to his jacket's pockets, the floorboards under his feet creaking alarmingly. Ron fumbled for the phone and soon the small light flickered over the dusty interior of the house. Harry could make out a sunken in sofa and some broken bookshelves alongside the walls of a large room. One second the light fell on a huge, partly broken mirror at the opposite wall and Ron flinched at the reflection. A few meters from the door a gaping black hole in the floor indicated where Martin must have fallen through.

"Are you Ok?" Harry yelled.

"I think I broke my ankle. My phone's been running out of battery and I could not find the exit. There is a lot of rubbish down here."

"We get you out!"

"What's on your mind?" Ron turned off the flashlight again and the room went dark.

Harry squeezed the handles of the crutches, thinking. "Let's go outside. Maybe there is an entrance to the cellar from the garden."

They searched for half an hour, Harry pointing out places that seemed convenient for an entrance and Ron digging away the hip deep snow with his bare hands. Finally at the back of the house Ron found a small window, hanging low in the wall. He threw a stone through the miraculously unbroken glass and opened it. Harry could only watch as he disappeared through it. Nothing happened during some long minutes while he waited outside, neither feeling the cold nor his protesting legs, snow falling silently around him. Then Ron's red shock of hair appeared again and he climbed out of the window, helping Martin to get through, too. Ron cheered and Martin laughed and Harry could not help but laugh out relieved, too, as they fell into each other's arms.

"What the fuck were you doing in there?" Harry asked when they walked back to the car, Martin hopping on one foot, supported by Ron and Harry lagging behind because his nearly frozen legs were now about to quit the service.

"I saw the sign indicating a farm and thought it was a good idea to go there instead of the village. Actually, you must admit the idea was not too bad."

"Until you broke through the floor of an obviously uninhabited house."

"Yeah… I thought about turning around right away, honestly, but then… this old house really looked interesting."

Harry groaned and Ron shook his head. "You went to search an old farming house because it looked interesting? While we were stuck in a car, waiting for your return?"

"Hm… I know it was a little bit stupid-"

"A little?!" Ron burst out. Harry laughed.

"I'm sorry," Martin said, sheepishly.

They sat in the car with the heating on maximum for fifteen minutes before Harry felt ready for the drive home. He turned the car and they took the small path back to the road, then cut through the village again and found another road leading in approximately the right direction, everyone hoping without trees blocking the way. Harry drove slowly, the snow was still falling thick and in the back Ron and Martin had fallen asleep. Martin's head was resting on Ron's shoulder and Ron was slumped against the side of the car, snoring softly.

When Harry contemplated them both in the rear mirror he realized, there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and rescuing someone out of a spooky farm house in the middle of the night during a snowstorm after nearly crashing the car into a tree is one of them.


End file.
